Hold a Candle to the Devil
by emcaro
Summary: Pamela Ravenscroft is trapped. Her life is living her, the world is passing her by, and she has no way out. When a handsome stranger offers her a lifeline, freedom, a new life, will she be brave enough to leave it all behind and join him?


_Here's my thoughts on Pam/Eric Dynamic Duo's first New Year together. Happy New Year!_

Hold A Candle to the Devil

_New Years Eve_

_1891_

'Blast,' Pamela Ravenscroft cursed, snatching her thumb away from the wooden railing. A tiny droplet of blood bubbled out of the tiny cut and she winced, wishing for the barest hint of a moment that she'd heeded her mother's command and worn gloves.

'Pamela,' Miss Snyder droned. 'What have I told you about that dreadful common tongue that you speak with? You sound cheap.'

_She barely looks scandalised anymore,_ Pamela thought with a heavy internal sigh. Unfortunately, after fifteen years of watching over her, Pamela could no longer shock Miss Snyder. She presented tall, imposing figure, made even larger by her heavy and out of date black skirts, but Pamela was no more intimidated by her three-chinned governess than she'd been the day they met when Pamela was only four.

Still, it was worth a try. 'I ripped my bloody finger on the blasted railing.' But Pamela could not even work up a suitable measure of rebelliousness in her tone to match her uncouth words. They came out flat and bored. With the heaviest sigh allowed by her tightly laced corsets, she smoothed the front of her cream coloured, floor-length gown.

Miss Snyder merely shook her head wearily, but Pamela barely acknowledged her governess' movement. She was really much too old for a governess at nineteen and her mother and father did not even pretend that Miss Snyder's continued presence in their daughter's life was for any purpose other than keeping her out of trouble.

It was a tired game they played and Pamela found it utterly boring. Just as boring as she found the once tense arguments with her parents, the once charming young men who danced with her at parties, the once intriguing books, the once exciting proposals… boring. More than that, she found them exhausting. Stifling.

And if she really admitted it to herself… frightening.

She stared at her thin, pale fingers for a distraction; they looked brittle in the moonlight, as though they would snap at the slightest provocation. The prospect of spending her entire life, the rest of her days, residing in this monotony… it made Pamela eye her bedroom window, the one three stories from the ground, with morbid and unhealthy interest. And say she got married, what then? Children?

Her? A mother? Pamela shuddered at the very thought of her tiny waist expanding, the thought of a being growing inside of her, and worse, later, a squalling, wailing, _demanding_ child.

'Come Pamela. The carriage is waiting for us,' Miss Snyder drawled and Pamela smoothed the front of her gown a second time with an almost imperceptible grimace.

Settling herself into the back of the dark wood carriage, Pamela met Miss Snyder's eyes for the barest of moments before turning her gaze to the window.

'There now, buck up.' Miss Snyder chastised.

'I do not want to go.' Pamela said sullenly.

'Oh where is my Pamela who never turned down an invitation to a party? Why the long face? I practically have to drag you out of bed these days? What has gotten into you?'

Pamela met her governess' eyes coolly without blinking. Miss Snyder sighed. 'Oh Pammy. Not that again.'

They were there, arrived at Annabelle Green's lavish country home where the New Years' festivities were being held. Without another word to Miss Snyder, Pamela stepped out of the carriage, not waiting for the footman to offer his arm.

Everything was decorated beautifully, Pamela noticed without the slightest enthusiasm.

She felt as though she was in a daze, the mingling young people seeming to blur together much too quickly and slow down again so that their words sounded louder and slower. Pamela fought the urge to clamp her hands over her ears.

It had been like this for nearly a year, since she'd rejected her third marriage proposal—social events were utter torture since...

But that was not something to ponder at present.

A more interesting prospect was the man in the corner. He was tall, much taller than her father, and extremely broad in the shoulders. He had blonde hair that looked practically sun kissed and the most incredible, penetrating eyes. He was… dangerous, interesting, intriguing and the opposite of _him_.

And he was watching her.

Self-consciously, she brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her face and surreptitiously glanced back in his direction. Still, he stared and she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

When she glanced up again, he was standing directly in front of her.

He was even more beautiful close up. His skin was very pale, but his eyes were compelling, seductive, and his lips were quirked into a wicked smirk.

He leaned forward taking her small hand with his own giant one, pressing it to his lips.

Miss Snyder was practically beside herself—'and without even the propriety of an introduction, really—but Pamela barely noticed, caught as she was in the gaze of this mysterious man.

'Hello,' she said and was surprised to find her face animating ever so slightly before falling back into its cold mask. 'And you are?' She asked.

'Saucy,' he said, his smirk defining itself into an even more wicked smile. 'I like it.' He turned to Miss Snyder. 'You are cold. You wish to stand nearer to the fire. You will leave us alone indefinitely.'

'I wish to stand nearer to the fire, my dear.' Miss Snyder said airily to Pamela making her jaw drop. 'I'm feeling a bit cold. You'll be all right on your own, will you?'

Wordlessly, Pamela nodded never taking her eyes from the blonde man.

'My name is Eric Northman,' he said.

_Eric_, Pamela rolled the name around in her mind. 'Where do you come from, Mr. Northman, if it is not too bold to ask.'

Eric chuckled. 'It is rather bold, but I believe I will tell you regardless, Miss…'

'Pamela Ravenscroft,' she said primly and waited for him to finish his explanation but Eric merely smiled at her that same wicked, hungry grin. He looked as though he wanted to devour her and Pamela felt a fluttering low in her belly—she rather thought she would let him. 'Miss Pamela,' he said smoothly in a voice like silk. 'Pam.'

It was not her name and generally Pamela despised being called Pam, but she found that she had no desire to correct him. 'Well?' She asked, hating herself for her breathy voice.

'I did not say I would tell you now. Right now, I have more… diverting matters I wish to attend to.' His eyes raked up and down her body and Pamela felt more alive than she'd ever felt before.

'I wish to take you,' he paused with a delicious smirk, 'on a walk.'

And then his arm was proffered to her and before she could comprehend what was happening she was feeling the cool night air on her face and staring at Eric's beautiful face in the moonlight.

She took in a deep breath. It felt good, like she had not taken in a breath too long. It felt so good she took in another long pull of night air. She looked up to find Eric carefully watching her.

'So where do you come from?' She finally asked, though Eric seemed content to stare in silence.

When he did not answer, she continued, 'You are not from here.'

He smiled down at her. 'What makes you think that?'

'You are not.' She said certainly.

'You are correct. I am from the North.'

'That certainly narrows it down,' Pamela narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips making Eric chuckle. His blonde hair glinted in the moonlight.

'Why did Miss Snyder do what you told her?' She asked.

'Why do you do what Miss Snyder tells you?'

'Who says I do?'

Eric chuckled again and carefully grasped her arm without answering leading her away from the party, along the stone wall towards the field.

A familiar carriage rumbled down the road halting before the party. Pamela's breath caught in her throat as a painfully familiar black haired man jumped from the carriage. Radford. He turned to help Caroline from the carriage, laughing uproariously at her words.

'Are you all right?' Eric was watching her carefully.

'I am fine—I only—I am fine.'

He turned to look where Pamela was looking. 'You know this couple?'

'That is Radford Clint and his sister, Caroline. Are you a friend of Annabelle's? Are you joining us for the season?'

'I will do no such thing. Now, finish your sentence,' he commanded.

'What was I saying?' Pamela asked, confused.

'You are not fine.' He said with certainty.

'I am. I only…

'You might as well finish your sentence. We have nothing but time.'

Pamela stared at Eric. She did not want to look away; he was so captivating, so beautiful. But she could not. She would not tell him the real reason for her discomfort.

'It is nothing.' She easily brought a lovely, vacant smile to her lips. It was a smile that fooled everyone.

Everyone except, apparently, Eric.

'Tell me.'

His words could not be argued with—literally. Pamela could not—would not disobey. 'I _hate_ them.' She said immediately and Eric's face lit up with delight, spurring her on.

'All of them. Every last one with their pretentions and their hypocrisy and their rules and the boredom and I _hate_ it. All of it. With everything I am.'

Her voice had risen, her hands were shaking, and her eyes were wild, but Eric was drinking it up. He stepped closer as her tirade continued until he was touching her, his hips pressed against hers, his large body practically covering her small one.

'I hate them.' She finally finished.

'Oh, I understand now,' Eric said, but he did not seem to be addressing Pamela. 'I was told that I would know, when I found the right one, but I had no idea the way would be so clear. Tell, me little Pam, how would you like to end it?'

'End it?' Pam asked, still breathless from her speech.

'Leave. Come away with me. Start again.' He leaned closer so that his cheek pressed against her, his breath in her ear. 'No rules. No hypocrisy. No boredom. Just forever doing what you want, when you want.'

'Whatever I want?'

'Whatever you want.'

'With you?'

'With me.' He confirmed. 'Now. What will it be, Miss Pam?'

Pam leaned back. His presence, his large overwhelming presence, was overpowering her and she could not think. So many thoughts were chasing themselves around her mind. The impropriety, her mother, her father, Miss Snyder, what would they say? And Radford. What of Radford? He would kill her for even considering—for even imagining—

But none of that seemed to matter for the moment. The only question that seemed to be of particular concern, she already felt deep in her gut to be answered. She asked it anyway. 'Can I trust you?'

He looked surprised. He took a moment to ponder. 'I suppose you can. Not many can say that. But, I promise you I will protect you. I will look after you. And I will let you go.'

Pamela closed her eyes. 'What are you offering me?' Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Eric looked appraisingly at her before leaning ever closer to press his face into her hair. Pamela's breath stole away. '_Æ_vi, my child.' He whispered. 'I'm offering you the world.'

_Æ__vi- Old Norse for life, time, or age. It's not the only word for life, but I thought it the most fitting—Eric was offering her 'the ages'._

_I took the title from the Victorian phrase that basically means evil or mischief. _

_If you like this, let me know. I might expand it to a multi-chapter about Pam's time as a newborn. _


End file.
